Monday, March 31, 2025
the last book I read
Friday, March 21, 2025
the last book I read
Light Perpetual by Francis Spufford.
We're in Woolworth's. I mean, back when Woolworth's was a thing, and therefore being in one was a thing you might possibly do. That actually only rules out dates later than about 2008, but we're much earlier here; in fact we're in 1944, during the Second World War. And here are our five main characters: Jo, Val, Ben, Alec and Vern, all small children aged about five. But why have we chosen this moment to meet them? Well, something significant is about to happen, but we'll circle back to it at the end, if you don't mind.
So now we commence a series of flash-forwards, first by five years to 1949, and then in a series of fifteen-year jumps to 1964, 1979, 1994 and finally 2009, when each of the main cast of characters is around seventy. All five start out in the (fictional) London borough of Bexford but then take different paths through life.
Alec goes from wise-cracking schoolkid to cocky twentysomething looking for a break in the newspaper business, which he gets as a typesetter. His natural bolshiness and interest in left-wing politics also make him ideal as a union representative. The fact that his job is in jeopardy by the late 1970s isn't any reflection on his skill at it, but just a reflection of the changing times and the development of computers that will eventually make his entire job obsolete. Alec fights against the inevitable, and leads his colleagues in a lengthy strike, but eventually finds himself out of a job and takes a swerve into the teaching profession.
Vern, a big, ungainly kid, matures into a big, formidable adult making a slightly dodgy living in the property rental business and nursing a slightly incongruous love for opera on the quiet when no-one else is listening. Eventually the business climate takes a downturn and he is back to square one (not to mention being booted out on the street by his wife), but gradually puts his business back together so successfully that he's able to afford lavish trips to indulge his love of opera; the full black tie and quail's eggs extravaganza. But a change of fortune is always just round the corner, and if you spend your life pissing everyone off in pursuit of your aims, including your own family, you may find that they are disinclined to help out when you really need them.
Jo and Val, the twins, take different paths through life: Val falls in with a group of ne'er-do-wells led by the charismatic Mike, whose slightly cool and exciting rocker rebelliousness has by the late 1970s curdled into skinhead ultra-nationalism. But at least if he slakes his thirst for a bit of the old ultraviolence out on the streets then he won't feel the need to come home and take it out on the missus, right? Eventually the inevitable happens and Mike administers a beating to a young Asian bloke that tips over into murder and he gets put away for a long stretch. After Mike eventually dies in prison Val gets a job as a volunteer for the Samaritans, dispensing some of her hard-earned life experience. Meanwhile Jo has spent an entertaining couple of decades in California as musical sidekick and occasional lover to Ricky, a fellow Londoner who has become a proper massive rock star. Eventually that comes to an end, as all things do, and she returns to England and a job as a teacher in a secondary school.
Finally there's Ben, already by his twenties in the grip of some fairly serious mental illness and on a pretty heavy prescribed drug regime. a few years later and he appears to be off the prescription drugs but self-medicating fairly heavily with brain-numbing quantities of weed while just about holding down a job as a bus conductor. After another fifteen years his life appears to have taken a miraculous turn for the better after a chance meeting with Martha, the Nigerian proprietor of a café where he's got a part-time job - she straightens him out by marching him off to the GP for a proper prescription of anti-depressants, and once he's sorted out in the old noggin department promotes him to full-time employee and eventually husband.
So by the last instalment in 2009 everyone's had their fair share of triumph and disaster, marriage and divorce, birth and death, tears and laughter, light and shade, etc. Has anyone changed the world, become Prime Minister, found a cure for athlete's foot or anything like that? Well, no, but who is to judge the value of an individual life? And who knows what small barely-noticeable ripple that one of us might make during our time here might eventually accumulate into something momentous after we've gone?
Well, I hope you're comfy on that rug, because prepare to have it pulled from under you: the event described in the first chapter is the V2 rocket impact on Woolworth's in New Cross in November 1944 in which 168 people died, including many children. In the fictionalised version of it that features our five protagonists, they are all, with various parents, directly under the point of impact and it is made very clear that they are all pretty much vaporised into their component molecules by the ensuing blast. So what follows is a possible alternative future if some part of the preceding few minutes had played out differently and the rocket's trajectory had altered by a fraction of a degree and it had pancaked harmlessly into the Thames, or possibly slaughtered a different 168 people in a different building.
So how do we feel about this? We'll have to be self-aware enough to realise that any responses like "well, that's rubbish then, none of it was real" are a bit problematic; after all, none of it was real anyway, it's a novel, literally made up by someone. I think my problems with it, to the extent that I have any, are as follows: firstly, if you skip the first chapter what you have left is an interesting but not wholly remarkable set of occasionally intertwining stories about five kids from London and their various adventures in life. That's fine, but pasting the framing device on the front almost looks like an attempt to imbue the stories that follow with a sort of poignancy and significance that they haven't really earned. Secondly (and this is really just the first criticism again in a slightly different form), the first chapter is so brilliantly written, with its Nicholson Baker-esque slowing of time to a nanosecond crawl to describe the rocket's arrival through the roof of the building and the impossibly violent chemical reaction happening inside it, that it raises expectations that the rest of the book can't possibly live up to. The other example that springs to mind of an opening chapter so perfect that the rest of the book was a bit of a let-down in comparison is Ian McEwan's Enduring Love.
To be clear, there's absolutely nothing wrong with this, but it just felt to me like the structure didn't quite knit together properly, or, to put it another way, the carrot of something bold and structurally experimental was dangled and then never quite followed through on. It is worth pointing out that quite a lot of people disagreed with me, though.
A couple of footnotes: some of the fragility-and-preciousness-of-life stuff, particularly towards the end, is fairly explicitly Goddy, but not in a way that I found annoying, or perhaps my mild annoyance at the book's structure distracted me. The other thing that struck me was how similar Ben's intrusive thoughts were - particularly during his weed-addled on-the-buses episode - to the borderline personality disorder stuff described by Joe Tracini in his various videos and books.
Monday, March 17, 2025
incidental music spot of the day
Hey, we haven't done one of these for a while (three-and-a-half years or so in fact), but I was struck by the loose yet funky tune that plays over the latest Haven Holidays advert, as it was highly recognisable to me as Can You Get To That by Funkadelic. My recollection is that I discovered Funkadelic off the back of some sort of Greatest Guitar Solos Of All Time article in a music magazine that pointed me to Maggot Brain, which certainly fits the bill as it is essentially a ten-minute guitar solo courtesy of guitarist Eddie Hazel.
That in turn led me to the album of the same name, and thence a few of the other albums from their early/mid-1970s heyday, including my favourite one Standing On The Verge Of Getting It On which not only was a fixture in the CD player in the RV we hired for our honeymoon in Canada in 2011, but also provided, in Sexy Ways, the first dance song at our wedding in June 2011, a choice I absolutely stand by 14 years later, even as I largely disown the improvised dance moves I came up with to accompany it.
As an aside, if the Stone Roses hadn't heard the title track of Standing On The Verge Of Getting It On before they wrote the lengthy funky stop-start outro to I Am The Resurrection then I'll eat my hat.
Sunday, March 09, 2025
the last book I read
Friday, March 07, 2025
celebrity lookeylikey of the day
Today's pair are author Harlan Coben and actor, author, amateur chef and mixologist Stanley Tucci.
The only Harlan Coben book I have ever read is Tell No One, which I read a copy of owned by my then-girlfriend shortly after its 2001 publication in a desperate holiday running-out-of-books frenzy, something I would obviously never allow to happen nowadays. I would describe it as enjoyable, gripping and utterly ludicrous, which is all absolutely fine for a fairly pulpy thriller. Like many primarily plot-driven things it and its many successors in Coben's oeuvre are prime material for film and TV adaptations, and sure enough there have been a whole raft of them, most recently the Netflix series adapted from Run Away, which seems to feature a cast of mainly British actors.
Stanley Tucci, meanwhile, is probably right now deep in some method-acting preparation for the plum role of me in the movie of my life. For him to be a perfect fit appearance-wise I probably need to get slightly balder, something which I'm pretty sure will happen all too imminently.
did an icebreaker at a work meeting the other day where the question was "who would play you in a movie of your life". panicked slightly trying to think of bespectacled bald fiftysomethings and said Stanley Tucci. increasingly convinced of the genius of the idea
— Dave Thomas (@electrichalibut) July 17, 2023
Tuesday, March 04, 2025
is she sleeping? I don't think so
Monday, March 03, 2025
the last book I read
- The Sportswriter
- Published: 1986
- Set: 1983
- My reading: ??late 1990s/early 2000s??
- Independence Day
- Published: 1995
- Set: 1988
- My reading: 2009
- The Lay Of The Land
- Published: 2006
- Set: 2000
- My reading: 2025
Friday, January 31, 2025
the last book I read
Fragrant Harbour by John Lanchester.
Hong Kong? Phooey! No, really, it's true. Former British colony, business powerhouse, cultural melting pot, land of opportunity, hive of scum and villainy. And the people! Well. Let's meet some of them.
Dawn Stone is a journalist, taking a pretty standard Glenda Slagg route through UK tabloid journalism, showbiz scandal, obsessive royal-watching and all, until an ex-colleague makes her an interesting offer: come and work for him on a new magazine he's starting up in Hong Kong. Bit of tabloidesque fluff required, naturally, but also a potential opportunity for some Proper Investigative Journalism, and, hey, maybe there's a book in it. Dawn is a bit bored of her current job, and of her current boyfriend, so she jumps at the chance.
It's all pretty fabulous at first - exciting new culture, lots of sipping gin while being whizzed around the harbour in luxury yachts, although there is a bit of shadiness about where some of the money is coming from, and how the slightly murky Wo family are pulling various strings and controlling various interests with a thin veneer of respectability but probably also involving a visit from some guys with meat cleavers if you get in their way.
After getting the go-ahead from her boss to do some digging into the local business set-up, with its murky links to the Triads, drugs and illegal gambling activities, Dawn works up an article she's pretty proud of, only for it to be made clear to her that it's going to be spiked, as the business pies that the Wos have fingers in include the magazine she's written the article for. The man delivering the message on behalf of the Wo family, Philip Oss, is very nice about it, though, and has a couple of alternative ideas for Dawn to consider: firstly a very lucrative executive position as a sort of PR person for the Wo business empire, and secondly a very lucrative SEXecutive SEX position as his mistress.
A change of viewpoint now: Tom Stewart, a simple country boy from Kent but with a restless urge to travel, sets out on a long boat journey to Hong Kong in 1935 without much clear idea of what he's going to do when he gets there. He meets a motley band of fellow travellers on the ship including Sister Maria, a Chinese nun who teaches him to speak Cantonese and who will feature intermittently but significantly in his life thereafter.
Tom is a bright, ambitious and hard-working chap and soon gets a good job at a prominent local hotel. A few years of making a nice peaceful living come to an end when World War II breaks out and the colony comes under threat of Japanese invasion. Tom's Cantonese skills make him highly valuable to the resistance effort and he slightly reluctantly becomes involved with some shady activities, until his group is inevitably betrayed and he is imprisoned by the Japanese invaders.
Eventually the war ends, Hong Kong is liberated and Tom briefly returns to England to see his family, but soon chafes at domestic rural life and decides to return to Hong Kong permanently. He reunites with Sister Maria after some intermittent contact during the war - Maria has been helping with some translation work which has indirectly helped in the prosecution of a minor member of the Wo family, and - although it can never be proved - it is assumed, certainly by Tom, that the Wos are in some way responsible for her subsequent disappearance.
Tom remains in Hong Kong and lives into relatively contented old age, making a nice comfortable living off the hotel. No romantic entanglements to speak of, and, well, yes, you'll be saying, that's because he was somewhat inappropriately IN LOVE with A NUN, i.e. Sister Maria, the whole time. A pity he couldn't, you know, do anything about it, but that's life. Hardest game in the world, the old nunning game. Well hold onto your wimples, because while Tom is having a grumpy-old-man-style altercation with some surly youths at a taxi rank a young man approaches him, sees off the youths with a spot of the old kung fu, and introduces himself as Tom's grandson.
The young man, whose viewpoint we now switch to, goes by the (somewhat Anglicised) name of Matthew Ho and when we meet him in the mid-1990s he's a successful businessman running a company making air-conditioning units. Never mind all that hot air (well, cold air) though, what's the story with Tom having a child? Well, you've probably guessed, but it turns out that there was a particularly fraught period early in the Japanese occupation when Tom and Maria were holed up in an abandoned school in the New Territories hiding from the Japanese troops, and Tom decided that the best course of action would be for him to give himself up, Maria herself being just another local as far as they'd be concerned unless endangered by being seen to be harbouring Westerners. Maria attempted to persuade him otherwise by suggesting they get, hem hem, "holed up" in a slightly different way and evidently Tom jumped at the opportunity and then went ahead and gave himself up the next day anyway.
Matthew delivers some letters from Maria that he'd been entrusted (including the whole explaining that she'd had his child thing) with to Tom and the two establish an affectionate relationship. Over the years his air-conditioning business becomes successful but the impending handover of Hong Kong to China introduces some uncertainty, to the extent that he decides he needs a Chinese backer to avoid the company going under. An opportunity is provided by an introduction to Dawn Stone, now a high-powered executive who's ascended the greasy pole of career advancement partly by her own talents and partly by also regularly ascending Philip Oss's greasy pole. Anyway, Dawn provides an introduction to the people she works for, who are of course the Wo family. Mr. Wo seems receptive and offers some terms that Matthew finds acceptable. Matthew is naturally delighted, but now has to travel to Hong Kong and broach the subject with his grandfather, notoriously not a big fan of the Wo family after their probable involvement with abducting and murdering the woman he loved. Tricky times.
The novel ends before Matthew and Tom meet to discuss the thorny issue of Matthew entering into a business relationship with Maria's probable murderers (or at least people who represent the same organisation), but it seems unlikely Tom will just shrug it off with a heeyyyy, whaddaya gonna do? But who knows? Maybe he's mellowed in his old age. The reader may also find themselves struggling a bit to care much about the fate of an air-conditioning company, at least in comparison to the compelling details of Tom and Maria's wartime adventures. Tom's story is the heart of the book, and the sections featuring Dawn and Matthew which bookend it are much shorter and, to be blunt, less interesting. The sections describing Tom's wartime captivity and the arbitrary indignities he is subjected to are, for obvious reasons, the most compelling bit of the book, and quite reminiscent of Empire Of The Sun. The other book on this list to have Hong Kong as its principal location is Kowloon Tong.
As always, write about what you know is sound advice, and it turns out John Lanchester grew up (up to the age of about ten) in Hong Kong, and has an evident love for the place. I myself briefly visited Hong Kong in late 1976 and have some hazy memories of it, including a trip on a junk across Hong Kong harbour, which is definitely real as I have photos, and the spectacular approach to Kai Tak airport which is definitely a real thing and where we definitely did fly into and out of, but I couldn't say whether the recollection I have of looking out of the window of the plane during the approach through the Kowloon apartment blocks is real or not.
Anyway, this is all very good, the slight reservations about structure aside. It's also the latest book in this series to carry a map at the front, reproduced below.
Tuesday, January 14, 2025
the last book I read
A Visit From The Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan.
Hey, how are you? Come on in, there's some people I want you to meet. So this is Sasha - she's, eh, I dunno, thirtysomething? She works for a record company, primarily for this guy over here, Bennie Salazar. We'll get to him in a minute. Anyway, Sasha has a nice little flat in New York, a job she likes, as long as she can gracefully swerve Bennie occasionally making a pass at her. Strictly entre nous she's got a few, if you will, issues of her own, though; main one is she's kind of a kleptomaniac. Wallets, purses, little trinkets, you name it. She's in therapy, though - I mean, like all of us, right? - trying to work it all through. Anyway, back to Bennie - big record company exec and talent finder; trouble with that is you're only as good as your recent talent finds, though, right? And Bennie is a bit worried he might have lost his golden touch after a couple of finds turn out to be screechily unlistenable. Or maybe he's just getting old?
So here's Bennie's music industry mentor from when he was much younger, Lou. They got to know each other when Lou was screwing one of Bennie's friends, Jocelyn. Later we'll meet a couple of Lou's kids, Charlie and Rolph, on a safari trip with Lou's girlfriend, Mindy. Mindy in turn is eyeing up the tour guide, Albert.
OK, so ... this is Scotty, another of Bennie's friends from when he was younger. Scotty's a musician but he's gone off the rails a bit lately and he's kind of a hobo these days, hoicking mutant fish out of the East River to eat.
So you can tell we're moving backward and forward in time, here, right? I mean the episodes involving young Bennie and Lou are obviously in the past, and you sort of assume by default that the early parts involving Sasha and Bennie are in the loose "present", but, well, just keep your wits about you. Anyway, here's Bennie's second wife, Stephanie, living with him in suburbia and trying to fit in with the tennis club set. And here's Stephanie's brother Jules, a writer, but fresh out of prison after some bizarre incident involving a young actress. And here's Stephanie's boss at her PR firm, Dolly aka La Doll, who turns up shortly after running some sort of publicity scheme for a Middle Eastern dictator to humanise his image a bit (after some unfortunate publicity about murder and torture and genocide and tiresome stuff like that). The actress Dolly chooses to employ to fake a celebrity romance with this guy turns out to be none other than Kitty Jackson, the actress Jules assaulted.
Back in time a bit now to meet Drew and Rob, boyfriend and unrequited admirer respectively of Sasha. They hang out a bit, then decide, for ill-defined reasons (but following a night of drink and drug ingestion), to go for a swim in the East River, whereupon Rob gets into difficulties and drowns.
Then we meet Ted, Sasha's uncle, sent by the family to Naples to look for Sasha, this being her last known location before she broke off all contact with her family two years before. Ted takes a leisurely approach to searching, though, preferring to warm up with some sightseeing first, and when he does run into Sasha it's largely by chance. She's keeping up with the petty thievery but with a bit of the old prostitution on the side just to supplement her income. She is not best pleased to see him at first but in his clumsy but persistent way he eventually persuades her to jack it in and come home.
And now we see that our judgment of where to draw the chalk mark denoting "now" was a bit off as we zoom a couple of decades into the future where Sasha and Drew are married (having reconnected on the internet) and have two children. We also meet Alex, a former one-night hookup of Sasha's, also now married with a small child, who's been tasked by Bennie with performing some magical social media influencing to drum up interest in an outdoor concert in New York featuring none other than Scotty, still a bit mental but just about keeping it together enough to make a triumphal musical return.
Some notes on structure first: as the paragraphs above suggest this is a novel told in short and discrete chunks, featuring a wide cast of characters and not in any sort of chronological order. Indeed were it not for the loose narrative thread and the shared cast you might say it's more of a short story collection. Personally I'm not that interested in categorisation arguments of that sort, and it's more of a novel than, say, Invisible Cities. As it happens the only other thing of Egan's that I'd read before was Emerald City, which definitely is a collection of short stories.
Secondly, the Stuff That Is Like Other Stuff list: much of what's here is reminiscent of modern American authors like Douglas Coupland and Rick Moody, the minutely detailed account Jules gives of the events leading up to his assault of Kitty Jackson is slightly reminiscent of Nicholson Baker and the heavy use of footnotes which simultaneously explain and undercut the main narrative is a bit Dave Eggers and a bit David Foster Wallace. Another thing that's a bit Dave Eggers is the last chapter, since it's quite reminiscent of The Circle in its depiction of a society five minutes in the future and just a little bit further down the social media rabbit hole than our own.
To be honest that last chapter works less well than some of the early ones, and there are a few episodes which don't work quite as well as the others, notably the bizarre episode with Dolly and the dictator she's taken on PR duties for. Perhaps this is because we've got attached to Sasha, who is the main character - to the extent that there is one - and are waiting to find out which part of her life we're going to shoot off to next. What the whole thing is about is more of a challenge: friendship, aging, how people simultaneously change and don't change as they get older, assuming they survive long enough to get the opportunity. It's very good, anyway, which is after all the most important thing. Various august bodies thought the same thing, as A Visit From The Goon Squad was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in 2011 (there's a list of previous featurees here) and the National Book Critics Circle Award the previous year (previous featurees are Ragtime, A Thousand Acres, Gilead, Wolf Hall and Lila). I therefore deduce that Gilead and A Thousand Acres are the only previous featurees to have won both.
Thursday, January 09, 2025
it's BOTY time again
So, hot on the heels of the stats roundup is another annual thing that I've now saddled myself with: the Books Of The Year thing. I'd say this was one of the more difficult years to pick three from as there weren't really three that stood out above the others - that sounds like a terrible indictment of a whole year of beige mediocrity novel-wise, but I don't think that'd be right.
The tail-end of 2026 will mark the scarcely-believable twentieth anniversary of this blog, so maybe if I am, or indeed any of us are, still alive at that point I'll do some sort of overall Top Ten countdown or something.
Year | Author | Title | Comment |
---|---|---|---|
2024 | Trevanian | Shibumi | tending his garden, perfecting his go technique, exploring the extensive local cave systems and having eye-wateringly athletic tantric sex |
Jonathan Franzen | Freedom | Freed of any obligation to Patty, Walter and Lalitha quickly start going at it like knives | |
Christopher Priest | The Prestige | spooky banging on the table, rattling of curtains and maybe a bit of the old ectoplasm on special occasions |
Tuesday, January 07, 2025
stats entertainment
Here's the obligatory end-of-year/beginning-of-following-year roundup of blogging activities and the like. Anyone who'd just like the management summary can take away the headline fact that 2024 was pretty similar to 2023 in most respects, remarkably similar in fact.
Just to illustrate that point: 2023 had 59 posts overall and 23 book reviews, while 2024 had 58 posts overall of which 22 were book reviews. There is a little bit of a subtlety here, though, in that I actually read (or, more accurately, finished) 23 books in 2024 but the last one was so near to the end of the year that I didn't get round to writing the review until 2025. The overall page count and therefore average book length were very slightly up on 2023; the outliers here remain 2011 and 2021 (overall page count) and 2020 (average book length). The sex split (no, stop it) was exactly the same as 2023: 17 male authors, 6 female. Anyway, here are the graphs you ordered:
smallebrity lookeylikey of the day
Monday, January 06, 2025
the last book I read
Ice by Anna Kavan.
A catastrophe of some sort has occurred, ill-defined but almost certainly the result of a nuclear conflict, and as a result the world's climate has been knocked all to cock and some sort of sudden and intense ice age is in progress, gradually progressing from the poles towards the equator.
Our unnamed protagonist is clearly a tough and resourceful sort of guy with links to senior figures in government and military organisations. He's not on official business at the moment, though; for one thing the fabric of society is starting to unravel as the ice grinds its way remorselessly downwards (or upwards, depending on your point of view and which hemisphere you're in), and for another he's nursing an obsession with a strange, fragile, silver-haired (and, I think we can assume, much younger) woman who he seems to have had some sort of prior relationship with.
So is he hoping for some rekindling of former sexy sexy times with this girl, perhaps as a sort of defiant last hurrah for humanity before the glaciers engulf everything and everyone's bits freeze off? Well, maybe, but it seems a bit more complicated than that; much of his internal thought process in relation to her seems to involve having an urge to hurt her in some way, and there are dark references to traumas in her past, maybe involving him, maybe not.
Anyway, his pursuit of her requires him to travel from country to country, including some locations that are a bit close to the encroaching ice-front for comfort. During one of his longer stays he comes into contact with another nameless individual (basically no-one has names here, or, rather, presumably they do but we're never told what they are) known only as "the warden" who seems to occupy a position of some power and influence in society (or what remains of it) but also seems to have some hold over the girl, who currently resides, not entirely willingly (but not entirely unwillingly either), at the castle where he lives.
So, storm the castle, rescue the girl, nick a car/boat/whatever, flee to warmer climes, have a nice cold pint and wait for all this to blow over, right? Well, it's not quite as simple as that for a few reasons: firstly the complex and ambiguous nature of the warden's relationship with the girl, but also, more confusingly, the complex and ambiguous nature of the warden's relationship with our protagonist. Despite them seemingly never having met before there is some oddly fluid melding/merging of their personalities going on - the protagonist openly muses on whether they might actually be the same person, and the girl seems to have had the same idea. Whatever, eventually a crisis point is reached and the warden takes the girl away southwards by car (a trip they barely survive intact). Meanwhile our protagonist is airlifted out by the (presumably government) organisation he still - in some nebulous way - reports to.
Deposited in another country further from the approaching ice he is subjected to a strange Kafkaesque trial on ill-defined charges, escapes, falls in with a group of technicians setting up some sort of radio antenna near a border with a neighbouring country which his (presumably military) knowledge allows him to help with, hops the border and finds himself face-to-face with the warden again. What are the chances?
And so it goes on: another unnamed country, another seemingly-miraculous encounter with the warden and the girl, an escape, sometimes with the girl, sometimes not. And all the time the ice grinds onwards and time is running out. Eventually the scene repeats itself in a beachside cabin, and subsequently a headlong car ride through the driving snow, and it looks as if this may really be it this time. Or is it?
Firstly, let's do the list of novels on this blog where there's been some sort of apocalyptic event before the narrative even starts, in no particular order and with no particular hope that it'll be complete: In Watermelon Sugar, Virtual Light, The Road, Riddley Walker, O-Zone, Barefoot In The Head, On The Beach, The Pesthouse, Dr. Bloodmoney, The Death Of Grass, Station Eleven. Just to pick out a couple of obvious parallels, the inexorable approach of doom across the whole world is very reminiscent of On The Beach, and the distinct possibility that humanity's time may be up in the fairly near future is similar to The Road. But Ice exists in a weird little dream-like bubble of its own, and could very easily be a metaphor for something completely different. But what? An obsessive and abusive relationship? The author's own lifelong heroin addiction? In an odd way the book on this list which it most resembles is none of the ones listed above but instead Christopher Priest's The Affirmation with its odd dream-like quality, the sudden jarring shifts in perspective, weird coincidences and the voyage through a series of unfamiliar and unnamed countries (coincidentally Priest wrote a foreword to an earlier edition of Ice). There's also a whiff of JG Ballard about the whole thing, and a bit of a parallel with The Ice Palace: short book, icy title and setting, dream-like quality, enigmatic young female characters with opaque motivations. None of that quite captures its strangeness, though, and it certainly passes the "lingers oddly in the mind" test that I've mentioned before. It was the last thing Kavan (not her real name) published during her lifetime; she died in 1968, a year after its publication.
Anyway, it's very good, very short (170 pages) and I recommend it, as long as you're not wedded to ideas of strictly linear narrative or satisfyingly-resolved plots.